HarithXHarley{ABC's}

F is for [Feverish Teacher](🚨)

⚠ Warning ⚠ :

R18+

Harley Venom x Harith Stardust

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“I heard he’s the best psych professor in the department, even though he’s only been teaching for a few years.”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be, like, a genius at reading people and figuring them out and stuff.”

“Isn’t this class super hard though? I heard he can be pretty harsh…”

“I heard he’s a total dick, but I had to take this class, so…”

The first day of the school year had rolled back around, and the students of PSYC 464 – Criminal Behavior were awaiting the arrival of their professor, with more than just a little trepidation.

“One of my friends said he’s really hot…” One of the girls sitting toward the front said. “That’s kind of why I picked this one.”

“Well, I’m flattered.” A monotone voice said, and all twenty-something students turned towards the door in a swift, combined movement to stare at the man entering the room.

“Oh, ffff—” The girl said, thudding her head on her desk. Everyone else laughed.

“Bigger class than usual this year.” The professor observed. “Eh, doesn’t matter. Most of you will be gone in a month.” He dropped his bag in the chair behind the desk, pulling a notebook and a stack of paper out of it. He slipped on a pair of thin glasses.

“Uh… Professor—”

“Harley.” The professor interrupted the boy. “Don’t call me professor, it makes me feel old.” And shot a glance at the girl who’d embarrassed herself before. “And unattractive.”

She groaned, but managed to laugh along with the rest of the class, and Harley pointed at the boy.

“You had a question?”

“Yeah. Is your class as hard as people say it is?”

“Worse.” Harley said calmly. At the silence that followed, he shrugged. “Psychology is hard, kids. People think it’s not, because everybody and their mother majors in it. But you’re studying the human mind, here, the criminal mind, and regular people are fucked up enough as it.” There were a few more nervous laughs. He handed the stack of papers, the syllabus, to one of the people in the front row. “Okay. First rule. I don’t take roll, attendance doesn’t count towards your grade. If you don’t come to class, you won’t have a clue what’s going on, and you’ll fail. Participation does count, however, so as long as you show up and don’t say anything stupid, that’s twenty percent of an A to you.”

“There’s no homework?” Someone else asked, flipping through the syllabus.

“No. I hate grading shit.” Harley sat down on the edge of the desk. “A couple quizzes, two midterms and a final. That’s it. Don’t screw it up.” He opened up his notebook. “Shall we begin?”

The first day would be basic stuff, nothing too difficult, but the students scrambled to take notes as quickly and accurately as possible. Harley didn’t repeat himself often, and he rarely stopped, until nearly an hour into the lecture, when he trailed off, staring at the back of the room. One by one, everyone else noticed, and turned in their seat to see a boy at the back of the class—dead asleep, head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth wide open.